


Healer's Book

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Memories, Sadness, can potentially be read as Maedhros/Fingon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros finds Elrond reading in the library, late at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healer's Book

Maedhros sat in the armchair by the library fire, half-dozing, a book propped open across his knees. He jerked awake at the sound of a papery rustle behind him, head snapping up to look towards the shelves.

He got up, placing the book carefully on the table, and went to investigate. He could see a light behind a row of shelves, but when he looked, he saw no one…

Then he smiled. He had forgotten to look down, but there was Elrond, curled up on the floor wrapped in one of Maglor’s old woollen cloaks, holding a lampstone and reading from a huge leather-bound book almost as large as he was. His small face was lit by the lampstone, childish features twisted into a frown of intense concentration as his eyes flicked backwards and forwards. Elrond appeared to be so absorbed that he had not even noticed Maedhros’ presence.

Maedhros cleared his throat quietly. “Elrond. Shouldn’t you be in bed at this time of night?”

Elrond stared like a frightened rabbit, mouth opening and closing for a moment before he spoke. “I was reading” he said unnecessarily, gesturing at the book.

Maedhros sighed. “So I can see. Very admirable. But Elrond…” he knelt down in front of the child, picking up the lampstone and holding it between them so it illuminated both of their faces, “it’s the middle of the night and you were supposed to have gone to sleep hours ago, with Elros. Does my brother know you’re still up?”

Elrond looked ashamed, staring down at the book in his hands. “No” he said in a small voice.

“And what would he do if he did?”

“He would tell me to go to bed. That I could read tomorrow.”

“Exactly. And it’s true. To bed with you.”

Suddenly Elrond looked up at him defiantly. “Easy for you to say.  _You’re_  not asleep. Besides, there’s so many books to read!” he gestured at the high shelves all around them, “and not enough daytime to read them in.”

 _The boy may have a point_ , thought Maedhros, thinking of all the books he himself had not read. It was with a twitch of sadness that he remembered that this was a half-mortal child.  _Would Elrond and Elros age and die? How did it work? He really may never have time to read even a fraction of these books._

Maedhros shook his head to dispel such thoughts. “What are you reading anyway?”

“It’s a book on the anatomy of the Quendi” said Elrond instantly, his face lighting up as he showed Maedhros the heavy old medical text. “Elros may want to be a warrior or a king when he grows up, but I want to be a healer.”

“Do you now?” Maedhros had not expected that.

“Yes” said Elrond. “Maglor says I’m clever. I ought to use that to help people! That’s why I’m learning about how the body works, and about medicines.” He gestured over at another two large tomes that lay beside him on the floor. “It’s very interesting. Maglor gave me tea made of willow bark when I caught a chill in the winter and had a fever, but there are herbs to treat all sorts of things, did you know? Wounds and broken bones and sicknesses that mortals get, too.” His small face was animated. “The orcs use poison on their weapons, but there’s ways to heal those wounds too, depending on where on the body they are. Why, there’s also description of how to properly bandage up something like your missing hand.” Something new seemed to occur to Elrond, and he looked sad as well as curious. “You must have lost a lot of blood. Did it hurt terribly?”

Maedhros was caught off guard, his fingers going instinctively to the stump of his right wrist. “For a time, yes.”

“Did an orc do that?”

“No.”

“Who was it then? It must have been a very bad person.”

“I…” Maedhros felt the words stop in his throat.  _He doesn’t know. He means no cruelty to me._ And yet the words cut like knives. “No. No, he was… not a bad person. He was a very, very  _good_  person.”

That seemed to throw Elrond for a moment. He reached out to touch the stump of Maedhros’ wrist tentatively, with small fingers. “If he was such a good person, then why would he hurt you so?”

“It’s…” Maedhros swallowed. “It’s complicated.”

Elrond frowned, uncomprehending.

“He saved my life. My hand was lost already. He freed me, from a metal band around my wrist.”

Elrond still looked confused. “But why…” Elrond broke off, and Maedhros wondered what the child had seen on his own face that had made him stop at that. “Never mind” said Elrond. “You don’t need to talk about it if it makes you sad.”

Maedhros bit his lip, suddenly aware that they were sitting cross-legged on the floor beneath the tall bookshelves, a lampstone between them, and that there were tears in his eyes. He drew in a long, steadying breath, surprised and a little embarrassed by how much such talk still affected him.  _A weakness_ , said a small cruel voice. He let out the breath and gave Elrond an appraising look.  _He means well. And I do owe him an explanation._ “One day” Maedhros said quietly, “I promise I will tell you all about what happened then, and how I lost my hand, and how I was healed. But it is not a tale for the night time, I think.”

Elrond nodded gravely.

Maedhros got to his feet, scooping Elrond up in his arms – cloak, lampstone, books and all – and carrying him from the library to bed.


End file.
